The Debt

by D A Latham

  “Neither did I,” I told him.

  With that, he flipped me over in a sudden, but smooth, movement, as though I weighed nothing. He peeled my soaked thong down my legs, seemingly not noticing my scars. I fully expected him to plunge his cock into me, as his erection was back at full strength. Instead, he pinned my legs open with his elbows, and dived down to pleasure me with long, soft licks, flicking my clit with the tip of his tongue. One hand held me open, while he slid two fingers of the other inside me, which bumped repeatedly over my g-spot as he gently pumped back and forth. I felt my orgasm begin to brew.

  He must have felt it too, as he stopped abruptly. As I whimpered in annoyance, he reared up and slammed his iron hard cock into me. I cried out with the intensity. “You OK?” he asked, concerned.

  “I’m good,” I muttered, willing him to move. I rocked my hips to show I was ready for action. He fucked me at a punishing pace, slamming himself into me hard. I worried that the remaining bed legs would give out as he pounded me relentlessly, pushing me into one of those orgasms that shake your entire body as it rips through your nerve endings.

  He came the moment after I did; he’d clearly been holding himself back to satisfy me first. My body was still convulsing around his when I felt him stiffen and then let go. He slumped onto me, slicked with sweat. I pushed his damp hair back from his face and was rewarded with one of his film star smiles. The man was so very beautiful that he took my breath away.

  “You,” he said, running his nose along mine, “are so damn sexy, I just can’t get enough of you.”

  I swallowed the disappointment that he hadn’t made a more loving declaration. “So are you,” I replied, not wanting to push him and maybe scare him off.

  We snuggled together to watch the news on my tiny TV, our arms and legs entwined as we lay in companionable silence. I was still concerned that something was bothering him, but wary of prying and possibly being a nuisance, I kept quiet. Eventually, he spoke, asking if I’d looked for a new job, in a nonchalant sort of way. He was probably worried I’d be penniless and dependent on him forever.

  “Yes, I applied for two jobs this afternoon,” I said. I felt his body relax. “I’m just waiting to hear back.”

  “That’s good. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.” He seemed a little uncomfortable, as though he wanted to say something.

  “Spit it out,” I said.

  “It’s not important,” he replied. I stayed silent, just turning my head to stare at him in the dim glow of the TV. “Alright, I was thinking I should go home to sleep. I’ve got an early start in the morning. I’m appearing in court over in Kingston and need to be there by half-nine.”

  “You’ve not done anything wrong have you?” The words came out without thinking. Thankfully, he just laughed.

  “Of course not, it’s another case for MVDI. We get all the cases requiring litigation.”

  “Oh, I see.” As much as I understood it was just his job, I couldn’t help but feel sad for another poor soul who was about to go through the same as I had.

  After he’d left, I pondered our relationship. All of Andy’s actions towards me indicated that he felt something for me. I was certain he wasn’t just seeing me due to guilt or a sense that he needed to continue saving me, yet he seemed to be hiding me away, not sharing anything of his life. He was making no moves to show me where he lived or where he liked to socialise. I knew he fancied me and regarded us as sexually compatible, yet I didn’t know if he actually liked me or not. Eventually, I fell asleep in a fitful doze.

  I awoke to a sense of unease, the full impact of not having a job to go to finally hitting me like a sledgehammer. All my morning routines felt aimless, even getting dressed, as thanks to Andy, I didn't even need to go shopping. I decided on a duvet day, so pulled the covers back over me and opened my laptop as I sipped my tea.

  Checking my emails, I saw straightaway that both jobs had replied. I opened the first one and read through all the spiel from the surgery. My tummy flipped as I saw that they wanted me to attend a first interview. It sank again when I looked at the date; it wasn’t for another two weeks. In the spiel, it had said that there would be three separate interviews, followed by a trial week. It could take a month or more to get back to working again.

  Despondent, I clicked on the next one, which was from the ad for the private animal caregiver.

  From: marcusbrookes@pryce.uk

  To: sallyhiggs@bahoo.com

  Your application for the position of full-time animal caregiver

  21st January 2015 21:48

  Dear Miss Higgs

  Thank you for your completed application form. I would like to invite you to attend an interview on Wednesday 21st January at 6 p.m. I realise this is very short notice, so if you cannot make it, please let me know, so that we can find a mutually acceptable time.

  The interview will be held at Lakeswood, Keston Common Road, Keston, BR8 4RY. The initial interview will be with me, then a further interview with Mr Pryce, who would be your potential employer.

  Please bring your certificates, plus copies of your passport and another form of ID. I look forward to meeting you.

  Kind regards

  Marcus Brookes

  Household manager

  I re-read it at least three times, my sense of panic growing with each moment. An interview that evening was just so quick; I wouldn’t have time to prepare. I’d need to look smart. My mind went blank as to what I should wear. I didn’t even know how to get there, so I’d need to research buses. I quickly pushed my laptop away and jumped out of bed. Looking in my wardrobe, I scanned through all the cheap tat until I found my sensible grey trousers. I could team them with a plain black top and my useless coat. I’d just have to put up with the cold.

  I used Google Maps to find the postcode and discovered it was a large house, set in its own grounds just situated between the A21, where Andy had taken me to Chapter One, and the road that led down towards Westerham. I would need to get two buses, which would be a pain, but it was far better than the alternative; plus it seemed as though they were in a hurry to find someone.

  With a renewed sense of purpose, I made another tea and checked through the rest of my emails. The usual selling ones and spam ones hid a note from Ms Gadd, apologising for her outburst the previous day and offering to meet with me to “find a way forward.” I guessed that she’d been given a hard time by Rupert the previous day, although I doubted that Andy had served any papers at that point. She probably felt it was safer to keep me on her side. I didn’t feel up to responding to it. I knew full well that both Andy and Rupert would be appalled if I even entered into dialogue with her, let alone if I went back to work there. I’d just have to take my chances at this interview.

  I texted Andy to tell him I had an interview at six, so I wouldn’t be home till late, and he’d replied by wishing me luck. Then he sent another text a few minutes later to say he'd use the opportunity to work late that evening, so he would see me the following evening. It felt like a slap of rejection, but I dismissed that idea, giving myself a firm talking to about becoming needy and clingy. Andy clearly had an important job and couldn’t be running after me seven nights a week. I spent the day cleaning my room and getting ready for the interview, trying hard to ignore the anxiety rising in my belly.

  I’d only been for a couple of interviews in my life. One was for a Saturday job while I was at school. It had been an informal affair, being in a greeting card shop. The other interview had been in the surgery. I’d been a bundle of nerves for that one, literally shaking from head to toe as I’d sat in front of Ms Gadd and lied about my made-up hobbies. I hadn’t told her that I’d been in care, simply listing my address as 34 Dunston Way, omitting the name of the children's home.

  I left with plenty of time to spare, in case I got lost or buses were delayed. I made sure I had enough cash on me for bus fares and checked that I had all the documents Marcus had requested. I’d memorised the map and also done a little
drawing, which was stuffed into my handbag. I wasn’t leaving anything to chance. Being organised did little to calm my nerves on the bus ride over to Keston. I was unfamiliar with the area and it seemed quite dark, with few streetlights and what looked like huge houses with vast, unlit front gardens. I was relying on the bus driver to help me with where to get off. I sneaked a look at him concentrating on his driving and wondered if he’d forgotten me.

  Eventually he pulled up in a lay-by on a dark country road. “The lady who wanted to get off at Lakeswood?” he called out. “It’s your stop.” I rose out of my seat. “Just over there,” he said, pointing at a pair of enormous iron gates.

  “Thank you,” I said; grateful for his help, I’d never have found it on my own in the dark. I hopped off the bus and walked slowly towards the gates. I checked the time. I was ten minutes early. I pondered whether or not I should just go in, or walk around outside for a little while longer. Frozen to the bone in my useless coat, I made the decision to press the button to go in.

  “Pryce residence,” said a cheerful voice from the intercom. It sounded out of place floating out of the speaker beside the forbidding, lavish gates that guarded the property.

  “Sally Higgs to see Mr Brookes,” I said, feeling a little self-conscious about speaking into a pillar.

  “Super,” said the voice, “I’ll open the small side gate beside the large ones, just give it a push and it’ll open. Come all the way to the top of the drive and I’ll come and find you.” I heard a loud buzzing sound coming from a smaller, but no less ornate gate on the other side of the pillar. Gingerly I pushed it, expecting it to be heavy, but it swung open easily, then clanged shut behind me, making me jump.

  My eyes soon got used to the darkness of the driveway and it was a fairly clear night. The moon illuminated trees running on either side of me as I made my way up to the house at a fairly fast pace, glad that I’d not prevaricated outside and half-froze to death. As I followed the curve of the drive, the house loomed into view. It was an enormous place, although I wasn’t sure what era it belonged to. It was lit by up-lighters as well as from the windows. The end of the drive was a circular area, lit by old-fashioned lampposts. It was stunning. I wondered who on Earth could afford to live in such a vast house.

  The man who stood waiting for me was not what I expected, being youngish and quite hip. He was shivering in just shirtsleeves and skinny jeans. “Mr Brookes?” I asked.

  “Marcus, please,” he replied, “and you must be Sally? Delighted to meet you.” He held his hand out to shake mine. “Now please, lets get into the warm, it must be below freezing out here.” He led me into a large hallway, where we were greeted by two large German Shepherd dogs. They came over and sniffed me before the smaller one gave my hand a small lick. “This is Roxy. Seems as though she likes you already, her brother is Bruno.”

  “I love dogs,” I told him. I’d always had an affinity with them, probably because they only ever craved being part of a pack, rather like myself. I kept quiet and followed him and the dogs down the hallway, staring at the artwork on the walls. It was a tasteful, neutral sort of space, a bit like one of those achingly-expensive London apartments you see in magazines. The walls were a perfect shade of taupe to go with the pristine and shiny pale cream tiles on the floor, which had been polished to an almost mirror finish.

  “Did you find it OK?” Marcus interrupted my gawping.

  “Yes thanks, no problem at all.”

  “How did you get here?” he asked, “I saw you came on foot."

  “I took the bus,” I said, cringing slightly at how lame it sounded, surrounded as I was by extreme opulence. He ushered me into a large office and indicated that I should be seated.

  “Can I take your coat?”

  I shrugged off the useless coat and enjoyed the warmth emanating from a modern pebble-filled fireplace to the side of the desk. I wondered if the whole house was as perfect as the bit I’d seen. “Tea or coffee? I’m having a latte if you’d like one?”

  “That would be lovely, thank you,” I said, pleased that I didn’t have to figure out if it was bad manners or not to accept a drink. Marcus seemed to have a nice way about him that put me at ease. The two dogs lay down in front of the fire and watched the proceedings through sleepy eyes. I watched as Marcus picked up a phone and pressed a button, before asking the person at the other end to bring our drinks. I was impressed.

  “Are there many household staff here?” I asked.

  “Around eight of us usually, but only myself and Gerry, the chef, live in, the rest come in to do their shifts. A house like this takes a lot of upkeep.” He smiled brightly at me. “So Sally, you're a qualified veterinary nurse?”

  I pulled my certificates out of my bag and slid them across the desk. “I’m fully qualified in all aspects of animal care and surgery management up to NVQ level three,” I said proudly. He flicked through them, reading the more relevant ones.

  Our coffees arrived, announced by a small knock on the door. A large, rather scruffy man in chef’s whites came in bearing stylish white cups and equally-striking accoutrements on a black slate tray, which he slid onto the desk. “Thanks Gerry,” Marcus said, flashing a wide smile. “Sally, this is Gerry, chef extraordinaire. Gerry, Sally, potential babysitter for your two favourite doggies.”

  “Bloody things,” Gerry said, rolling his eyes at them. “If you can keep those two under control, then you’re a better trainer than the last one.”

  “They’re fully trained, Gerry, it’s just you they don’t behave for,” Marcus said, grinning at him. He turned to me, “Don’t worry, we’re not looking for a trainer.”

  “Bloody thieving creatures need one,” said Gerry as he disappeared through the door. Marcus handed me my latte.

  “So what exactly are you looking for?” I asked. I was beyond curious. It seemed such a strange set up.

  “We are looking for a caregiver, a sort of nanny for the dogs if you like. Mr Pryce works long hours and can’t always look after them as well as he’d like. He wants someone whose sole function is to supervise them, walk them, and care for their well-being.”

  “I see. Do either of them have any health issues?”

  “No.”

  “So why a nurse?”

  “I needed to find an animal lover, a true animal lover, so who better than a veterinary nurse?” I nodded, understanding immediately what he meant. Nobody went into nursing if they weren’t devoted to animals. It was a vocation, a calling. “So Sally, tell me, why are you applying for this job? Your CV says you worked at Bromley Animal Care for a long time.”

  His question threw me. I should’ve practiced a good answer as to why I was unemployed and looking for work. I hadn’t even realised I’d be asked. I decided on honesty being the best policy. “We had a minimum wage inspection at the practice and they found out I’d been underpaid. I refused to lie about it, so my employer sacked me.” I watched as my words sank in, and his lips pursed in disapproval. I wondered if I’d blown my chances.

  “That’s shocking,” he said. “How on Earth did they think they’d get away with it? I hope you take it to tribunal. Employers like that deserve to get done.”

  “I’m not one to make a fuss,” I said. “I enjoyed my job and didn't want to lose it, but by lying for her, I would’ve got into trouble with the taxman.”

  “You absolutely did the right thing,” he said. “You’ll be pleased to know that we do things by the book here. Mr Pryce is a very prominent businessman, and as such, wouldn’t dream of treating his household staff like serfs. The pay for this position isn’t great; it’s only twenty thousand a year, but you get free accommodation, as it’s a live-in position.”

  I nearly fell off my chair. Twenty grand a year sounded like a fortune, especially if I didn’t need to pay rent. The job sounded a breeze as well; taking care of two dogs wouldn’t be particularly hard work, even if they were a bit spoilt and naughty. I’d dealt with much worse at the surgery.

  Marcus asked
a lot of questions about my career and my attitudes to animal care. He was extremely detailed and precise with an almost forensic way of getting the information he required. His cheery demeanour concealed an intelligent man who was clearly very good at his job, despite his appearance being that of an excessively-groomed hipster. His hair was short, but perfectly cut, with a trendy little quiff at the front. His clothes were expensive, possibly designer and suited his slender, almost wiry frame. He looked as though he could have been a media type or a trendy designer, so I wondered how he'd come to be a glorified housekeeper to a businessman, pondering the possibility that he might be Mr Pryce's gay partner. I got a homosexual vibe from him.

  "So you'd be available to start straightaway?" His question shook me back to the present.

  I nodded, "Yes, I'd be able to start whenever you'd like."

  "Have you any questions for me?" Marcus asked.

  "Have the dogs had a nanny before?" I wanted to know if this was a new position, or whether I was stepping into someone else's shoes.

  "Yes they have." He pulled a bit of a face.

  "What happened?"

  "Mr Pryce's girlfriend and Sonia, the previous nanny... had a disagreement," he said. I could tell he wanted to say more so I stayed quiet. "Shari, that's the current girlfriend... she's quite a handful." He paused. "It's why we're on such low staffing levels right now."

  "I see," I said in a non-committal way.

  "Aaron, Mr Pryce," he corrected himself, "has been working ridiculously long hours lately, so hasn't been privy to some of her... excesses."

  "I'm sure she can't be that bad," I said cheerfully. Compared to the icy and sociopathic Ms Gadd, Shari would be a walk in the park. Being a mousy little thing often protected me from the ire of spoilt princess types, they didn't tend to find me a threat, so usually left me alone. Marcus just smiled thinly.